The shopping day was no different from any other. Emma McIlroy and
Julia Parsley rushed past the women's department, up the stairs to the
men's. McIlroy wanted a T-shirt. Parsley had her eye on a blazer.

Parsley -- wild-haired and petite, boyish-looking but with a
feminine figure -- slipped on the jacket. The blazer hung loose off the
arms, but was too tight to button. She sighed.

"Why don't they make these for women?" she asked McIlroy.

They had good jobs then, Nike jobs, the kind of jobs hundreds of
college students are dreaming about right now. But on that ordinary
shopping trip, engulfed in yet another set of ill-fitting clothes,
McIlroy, 29, and Parsley, 32, decided: We'll have to do it ourselves.

Three years later they are. This week, they'll launch an online
clothing store whose 30 brands offer masculine-inspired but woman-sized
blazers, bow ties and boots. They call themselves Wildfang, German for
"tomboy."

"For many of us, clothes are an important way that we express
ourselves," McIlroy said. "They show the world who you are and who you
want to be. For our girl that hasn't always been easy."

Last year's runways and this year's ready-to-wear shops are built
on androgyny. J. Crew's "boy" shirt for women may be a trend, but the
tomboy is as old as time. For Wildfang, "tomboy" is a spectrum, from a
preppy type who prefers her boyfriend's button-downs to the sporty woman
looking for a T-shirt. She's Scout in "To Kill a Mocking Bird." Patti
Smith on the cover of "Horses." Audrey Hepburn in "Roman Holiday." Diane
Keaton anywhere.

Parsley's 86-year-old grandmother cobbled together her own wardrobe
in the 1950s by stealing her husband's shirts. But when McIlroy and
Parsley Googled "tomboy fashion" three years ago, the only result was
"where can I find tomboy fashion?"

McIlroy had promised herself she would never go into retail. Her
father ran a shop in Ireland. He worked weekends, nights, holidays. She
believed there was a need, but she didn't want to leave Nike, where she
worked in digital sports marketing, unless she could prove it.

So they started with questions. Does the consumer really exist? Is
it just us? Is it just women in Portland? What do tomboys have in
common? What differentiates them?

The company, which now employs 22 people in its Old Town
headquarters, had a built-in focus group. Though all the women
considered themselves tomboys, that meant something different for each.
McIlroy is tall and skinny, a jock with a twist of Keith Richards rock
'n' roll style. Parsley has never worn a dress. She's small, but her
hips often prevent her from buying the pieces she wants.

They expanded their research by following 45 women as they shopped
and browsed online. Each had her go-to stores, but what the Wildfang
creators noticed is the women toggled through several sites or shops
just to put together one outfit.

Wildfang's creators started looking at stores in Portland, but
eventually McIlroy and Parsley used vacation time to study brands from
as far as Australia. They worked, with some difficulty, to schedule time
off together. Parsley's gig for Nike's foundation took her to Rwanda,
Ethiopia and Kenya.

Last September they left Nike. They cashed out their retirements,
withdrew their savings and started buying. At trade shows they noticed
most shops offered only a piece or two with the tomboy style. Designers
urged them to take entire collections.

"No," they told them. "We want only one piece."

Eventually they want to open a shop in Portland, but they don't
have the money for that yet. They work with local vendors such as Bridge
and Burn. Two of their models, soccer star Megan Rapinoe and Gossip
drummer Hannah Blilie, live in the city.

On Friday they'll launch the website with a variety of offerings.
You can buy basics for $30, but the leather jacket actress Katherine
Moennig wears in their promotional video sells for $700.

"There's a spectrum," McIlroy said. "But we were looking for pieces
that would make a girl feel like herself. If she feels like herself,
she'll feel confident."

Last week McIlroy and Parsley photographed the collection, answered
emails. Even without a store, they had heard from thousands of women,
each relaying her own story of disappointing shopping trips.

As Parsley buzzed around the room, ironing out the final tasks before the launch, she wore a blazer. It fit perfectly.